"One hears that, in foreign lands, people are now learning to swim, lying on the floor, with the aid of equipment. In the same way, one can become a Catholic or Protestant without experiencing life at all--by reading books in one's study. But to become Orthodox, it is necessary to immerse oneself all at once in the very element of Orthodoxy, to begin living in an Orthodox way. There is no other way."--Fr. Pavel Florensky

About Me

13 August 2012

Two things surprise me about today’s Gospel lesson. While
the Lord Jesus was on the mountain with Peter, James and John, a man had
brought his demon-possessed son to the other disciples and asked them to cast
out the demon. Try as they might, they couldn’t do it. So when the Lord
returned, the man came to him directly and asked him to do it. At once the
demon left the boy. The disciples, all embarrassed, took Jesus aside privately
and asked, “Why couldn’t we cast it out?”

And that brings us to the first surprise. Jesus answers,
“Because you have no faith.” Ouch!
He doesn’t say, “Because you have small faith,” or “because you have weak
faith.” No; he tells these men who had been living with him for two years or
more, “You have no faith.” Zero.
Zip. Nada. Talk about bringing someone down to the ground!

Think of all the problems we face. Sometimes, as in our
Gospel lesson, others bring us those problems. (As Tevye says, in Fiddler on the Roof, “Life obliges us
with hardships…”) We wonder, “How can I help this person who’s come to me for
aid?”

And
sometimes we bring those problems on ourselves. We worry, we think, we try
different strategies, all to no avail.

Meanwhile,
we assume that we have faith, and
that we just need to figure out that missing something—whatever it might be.
But all to no avail. Our problems don’t so much get solved, as get exchanged
for other ones.

What
if all these other problems just distract us from the one problem that all of
life’s about? What if we keep on attacking the symptoms, but never address the
root cause?

What
if, instead, we took the Lord’s diagnosis to heart? “Why, Lord, am I so
ineffective? Why can’t I get things done for you?” “Because you have no faith.”

When
I first became Orthodox, Deacon David Khorey told me about a priest he knew
growing up. The priest used to say to people, on a regular basis, “Pray for my
conversion.”

“Pray
for my conversion.” Isn’t that what’s
it’s all about, after all? The struggle of our lifetime isn’t with this or that
problem others bring to us…or the problems we see in ourself. The struggle of
our lifetime is simply this: that before we die, we come to faith in our Lord
and God and Savior Jesus Christ.

Didn’t
he say, after all, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?” Didn’t his apostle say, “I do not consider that I have made it my
own”—and by “it” he means “the righteousness from God that depends on
faith”?

Why,
after all, do we struggle with prayer, and reading the Scripture, and coming to
Matins and Vespers? Why do we seek our own pleasure, and get into power
struggles? Why do we grow so often dissatisfied? At root, it’s a faith-problem.

In
the book, The Way of a Pilgrim, the
pilgrim goes to a renowned monk for confession. The pilgrim lists every sin he
can remember from his youth up. When the monk sees his list, he tells the
pilgrim, “You have all these things, but you’ve forgotten the main sins.” “What
do you mean?” the pilgrim asks, and the monk gives him his own list. Four items
are listed, and one of them is “I have no religious belief.”

But
just that fact brings us to the second surprise of the text. And to me it’s
even more amazing than the first. Jesus
doesn’t forsake these men. St. Matthew continues, “As they were traveling
together through Galilee…”

He
knew that one would betray him. He knew that another would deny him. He knew
that all of them alike would forsake him. But
he didn’t forsake them. He stayed with them. He gave them all he was, and
all he had. As John says in his gospel,
“…Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the uttermost.”

You
see, unbelief doesn’t get the last word with Christ. Neither does sin. Neither
does death. His love for us is the ground on which we build our faith. His holy
death covers our sin—indeed, by death he trampled death, and rose again for us.
Take a look at the icon of the Anastasis. The Lord Jesus stands triumphant over
death and hades; all the locks of hades’ gates lie scattered and broken beneath
him. And then, in his strong hands he pulls Adam and Eve from hades. Look
carefully, and you will see that he is holding them by the wrist, not by the
hand. There is synergy, of course—they have their hands extended. But the work
of pulling them out is his work.

So
let us stop swatting at symptoms, and look to the root. Let us accept the
Lord’s judgment and see that our problem is with faith. Let us learn to say with Deacon David’s friend, “Pray for my
conversion.” For he who died for you and rose for you, promises, “I will never
fail you, I will never forsake you. I am with you always, even to the end of
the age. In the world you will have trouble, but be of good cheer, for I have
overcome the world.”